Tah to everyone who has reviewed my work and I am very honored you are reading my fics. So I have decided to treat you and give you an extra long chaptor. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: 'sniffle' Criminal Minds is not mine :-(

Reid stood on the train, surrounded by people going about their everyday lives as if they didn't have a care in the world. He could hear a women chatting on the phone about a conference meeting she had with her company, a teenager playing games on his hand-held console and a couple whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears.

He stayed completely silent, staring at some gum on the train floor. Some people might think he looked suspicious, clutching his satchel close to him while at the same time avoiding all eye contact. However, the reason the floor had become so interesting all of a sudden was that he didn't want anyone to see how his eyes glisten with unshed tears as he replayed over and over in his head the events of earlier.

"YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING REID. FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. GOD, DO YOU HAVE TO BE A DAMN KNOW-IT-ALL ALL THE TIME. DID YOU EVER THINK THAT ALL THOSE 'FUN' FACTS YOU TELL US ALL THE TIME ANNOYS THE HELL OUT OF US? YOU MAY BE A GENIUS BUT YOU DO NOT KNOW A NYTHING ABOUT BEING NORMAL. I SWEAR TO GOD SOMETIMES I WISH I HAD NEVER MET YOU".

Reid blinked as he heard the electronic voice announce their arrival at the station and made to step off the moment the doors open. He stumbled over his feet and bumped into a man, at least he think he was a man; he was wearing a dark navy jumper and the hood covered the majority of his face, casting it into shadows. He muttered an apology under his breath; normally he would have been more polite except he was too stressed over the day's events. He moved swiftly up the stairs and started making the 10 minute journey to his apartment. The whole time he was thinking about Morgan's face, the way it seemed to tighten in anger and the rage that caused the fire in his normally laughing eyes. For a minute in that car, Reid thought Morgan might have hit him with the way he was clenching and unclenching his fist.

'Maybe Morgan's right' Reid thought, 'maybe I do talk too much'. Reid absentmindedly started to make his way up the stairs to his apartment.

'I know that Rossi often tells me he isn't interested in some of the facts I spout out, and Hotch does get annoyed when I do it in a middle of a case'. Reid missed the friendly wave he received from his elderly neighbours, who were just leaving their apartment, and the worried look they gave each other when he didn't wave back.

'Maybe I should quit the BAU, that way the team will be able to perform better without me annoying them and distracting them with unnecessary facts. He paused when he got to his door and he felt his phone vibrate. Opening it he saw it was Hotch. He terminated the call and put his phone in his pocket. Then he slumped against his door and his shoulders started to shake. Holding in all those feelings of hurt and betrayal at all those words he heard from Morgan, from his 'older brother' came pouring out in a downpour down his cheeks. He slumped against the door and took deep shuddering breaths to calm himself.

With shaking hands he reached into the front pocket of his satchel and withdrew his keys. He couldn't seem to fit them into the lock his hands were shaking so much; he grew more aggravated the longer it took to put the keys in. Finally the key slid in and he turned it and swung his front door open. Walking in, he leaned against the wall, piano-hands searching for the light switch. He flicked it on and pauses to take in the sight. His apartment was clean and tidy, so clean it could be considered anal. His books were all placed on a large bookcase; giant volumes of encyclopaedias, novels in different languages and textbooks on nearly every subject you could think of. His laptop lay open on the table, and if you turned it on you would be assaulted with scientific journals and publications of all kinds. Reid bypassed the grief he was feeling and went to rage.

He ran to his bookshelf and swept all his books off the bookshelf, he overturned the couch and kicked his dining room chairs over. He destroyed his entire apartment before sinking to the floor and burying his face in his hands. He stayed like that, silently weeping; sometimes he hated being a genius. His eidetic memory was the cause of all his problems; it caused him to be tormented in high school, caused him to accuse his father of murder, he could remember all the details of his kidnapping at the hands of Tobias Hankel, and now he has alienated one of the only friends he actually has.

He stayed in the foetal position for a couple more minutes before he developed a headache the size of Texas. Slowly he got to his feet and made his way over to the kitchen for a glass of water. He never noticed he left his front door slightly ajar.

He watched as the two agents sped along the road at almost illegal speeds and took a sip of his coffee while keeping a safe distance in his own car. He had been following the two for a while now, and he noticed with intense glee that neither agent had spotted him. He snorted; what did he expect, he was a master at blending in after all. However, he was kind of insulted that no one was looking for him, hunting him down like he was some kind of monster like that child molester. He felt the rage growing in his veins and then heard a crunching noise before scalding liquid ran down his hand. He glanced at his hand and saw he had crushed his coffee cup in his anger. He dropped the paper cup in disgust and wiped his hand on his trousers. He looked up and quickly took a turn when he noticed the agent spin the car around the corner, almost taking a pedestrian with him. He felt himself calming down and started grinning smugly again.

'Never Mind' he thought, 'those FBI agents will soon realise their mistake when they find my works of art'. He sniffed in a huge breath of air through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He could still remember them, all of their wide eyes staring at him as he cut into their bodies, begging, pleading for their worthless lives. Why were they pleading? Didn't they realise they were becoming a part of his research, of his art; they should feel honoured. He could feel himself getting excited at the prospect of another victim but when he saw the aggressiveness of the dark-skinned agent, he was attracted like a moth to the flame. Any where violence appears, he was there, any brawls, he would be standing in the crowd, drinking in the anarchy. He loved the exhilarating feeling, seeing the fear and blood lust in people's eyes. It excited him!

He heard a screeching sound and looked up to see the SUV spin in the middle of the road before stopping. He watched the dark agent turn to the scrawny kid and shout at him. The look of rage in the agent's eyes had him breathing heavily. He felt dizzy with excitement at the violence displayed before him. Quickly he wound his window down, his hands slipping from the switch because they were shaking from the adrenaline, in time to hear the alpha male scream, "I SWEAR TO GOD SOMETIMES I WISH I HAD NEVER MET YOU".

That did it! His eyes dilated from his all-time high, he licked his lips in anticipation. He had just found his next victim!

He followed his victim on to the train and watched him from behind him. He was a lanky young man, with long brown hair brushed behind his ear. He didn't look like he would be any good at physical combat or taking down a hardened criminal. He looked like a weak breeze would sweep him off his feet at any moment. He snorted again, and pulled his hood more firmly over his face; whoever decided to let him into the FBI must need his head checked out. He moved into a position slightly in front of the man and noticed with amusement he seemed close to tears. How pathetic!

Then the train stopped and the 'FBI Agent' accidently bumped into him. He heard him mutter an apology. It was no accident; fate was telling him that this man was to be his new model for his art. He waited a few minutes and walked after the guy. He followed the man all the way to his apartment without the agent even realising he was following him. Seriously, how did this kid become an agent?

He watched him go into his apartment from around the corner and decided to wait a couple of minutes when he heard a loud crashing sound. He hurried forward and pressed his ear to the door, almost falling over when the door creaked open slightly. A sickly smirk crossed his lips, this would be easier than his thoughts. Cautiously he pushed the door open, just enough for him to slide his sturdy frame in. He glanced around the apartment and saw it was smashed to pieces. There was that feeling again; he repressed it and continued moving silently into the apartment. He heard a chinking a looked towards the kitchen, his heart beating fast. There the agent stood, back to him and drinking a glass of water. He walked closer till he was standing merely several metres away.

Reid finished the glass in one gulp and took deep breaths to get the oxygen back to his head again. Reaching over to the tap he was going to fill it up again when he saw a reflection. Suddenly he felt a presence and glancing closer to the reflection his eyes widened and his heart stopped.

There was someone behind him!

OMG I am evil! Sorry, please don't kill me for that cliffhanger but I had to do it.

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